BitterSweet
by Aka-Aki
Summary: They had done it. He was staggering over the edge, and they gave one final push. That final shove, that insignificant push, managed to break him down. Oneshot. 4th in The iPod Chronicles.


A/N This story takes place after "Merry Little Christmas". Inspired by the song, "Bittersweet Symphony" by the Verve.

Summary: They had done it. He was staggering over the edge, and they gave one final push. That final shove, that insignificant push, managed to break him down.

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BitterSweet

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The day was perfect for the occasion. The sun was gone, hidden behind clouds. Leaves kept falling from the trees, all of them dead. There were no people outside, since all were inside to hide away from the harsh winds.

Allison Cameron watched as everyone began to leave, bit by bit. His mother was weeping in his father's arms. His old college and high school pals looked at her. Their colleagues looked at her. All with sympathy. They seemed to know that he loved her and that she loved him.

The only people who seem to linger were Cuddy, Wilson, Foreman, and Chase. But she didn't care. She no longer did. She stood in front of him, her head bowed to hide her tears.

"Cameron, how long are you going to be out here?" Foreman whispered next to her. She didn't look at him. She didn't respond, but merely kept her gaze on the man before her. "Cameron, please say something."

"Allie?" Chase asked, using the nickname they had given their close friend. "Allie, why don't you come with us and go get something hot to eat?"

"No," Her throat hurt. It was raw and sore from all the crying she had done in the past days. Her eyes were bloodshot, with bags underneath from the lack of sleep. Her body was skin and bones from the lack of nutrition. She looked like a mess, but she didn't care.

"Allie, we need to get you out of here. It's too cold to stand here and be staring at his grave." Foreman said. To prove his point, a strong gust of wind shook the leaves and the trees all around them.

"I can, and I will." She answered firmly. Chase and Foreman looked at each. "You guys go on ahead. I'm staying."

"All—"Foreman interrupted Chase. He grabbed the Australian's collar and began dragging him off. "Eric! We need—"

"Don't you need to look for your tuxedo, Chase? I know that your fiancée didn't approve of the little white number you got before." Foreman said. Their voices began to fade, but Cameron didn't care.

The only ones who remained where Wilson, Cuddy, and her. But it didn't matter. This was their fault. It was because of them he left her alone.

"Cameron?" Wilson asked gently, trying not to provoke the young doctor. "Cameron, I'm really sorry."

"No, you're not." She replied, her face still hidden. Tears kept streaming down her face, never stopping. They seemed to get heavier and heavier by the minute.

"Cameron, he was my friend too. And Lisa's. We were just trying to get him to stop with the addiction." Wilson said.

"No you weren't. You just wanted your car and your money and your rich lifestyle back. You didn't care about him, as long as it didn't interfere with your life." Cameron said.

"That's not true!" Cuddy cried out. "Jim and I both care for House. We were concerned for him and we wanted to help him before he overdosed on those damn Viccodin pills. We wanted to help him before he killed himself."

"Well it looks like your help killed him anyways!!" Cameron shouted. "You two are so selfish. Wilson, all you care about is looking for your next wife and your next mistress. You want to maintain your god damn rich lifestyle. Cuddy, all you give a shit about is that damn hospital. Greg was right. You would be such a horrible mother."

"What?" Cuddy looked at the young doctor in disbelief. "He told you about that?"

"Of course he did. He trusted me. He believed in me." she spat. "He loved me."

"Cameron—"Wilson was interrupted as Cameron slapped him.

"Just go, and never come back." Cameron said bitterly. "You shouldn't even be here, you murderers."

"Cameron, stop. We did not kill House. He killed himself." Cuddy said, still shocked at Cameron's behavior and the slap she had given Wilson.

"He might have, but you two gave him the gun, loaded, and told him to either shoot himself or take that fucking deal!!" Cameron said. "You know he's stubborn, so why bother?"

"We were trying to help him, not kill him." Wilson said. Cameron looked at him in the eye. Her brown eyes were lit with anger, bitterness, and gone hope.

"I see no difference." Cuddy was about to say something, but thought against it. She merely grabbed Wilson's arm and they began to walk away, leaving Cameron alone in the cemetery.

As soon as she saw that they were gone from sight, she collapsed to the ground. Sobs shook her small frame. She wept for him. He was gone, leaving her alone from this world, after he had promised he wouldn't leave without her.

"Greg. Greg." She whispered his name. Her fingers traced the wording on his tombstone as her other arm was wrapped around her stomach. "Why did you do it? I could have helped you. You knew I was going to help you."

There was no response, except for the shaking leaves. Cameron sat in front of his grave, just waiting. Waiting for someone to come and take her to him. Or for House to pop up from his grave and laugh, claiming that he got her good. Then he would take her home, where he would love her for hours and hours.

But of course, it wasn't going to happen. It was a cold day, but it suited for the funeral of Gregory House.

A week ago, his body had been found by Cameron. She was stopping by after work, to tell him about a new patient that they had gotten. All she had found was his body on his bed, the bed were they had shared many passionate moments together, dead.

The police said that he had shot himself in the heart. A suicide they called it. But Cameron knew it was because of Tritter that House had killed himself. Tritter had taken away those pills that he need. Tritter had pushed House.

But of course, he had help. Wilson and Cuddy tried to make him go into rehab. They tried everything they could think of. They took away his pills, they took away his alcohol, and they took away his job. All three of them were guilty.

Cameron knew it, Foreman knew it, and even Chase knew it. That is why the three of them had told the police that it was because of Tritter that House committed suicide on the same day his body was found. Because Tritter took away House's pills, even though he knew that House was in constant pain.

They all knew that he was vomiting, that he couldn't sleep. They knew the side effects. They were trying to help. Tritter knew. Yet he kept pushing House. He kept pushing him and pushing him until House couldn't take it and snapped. Now, Tritter is being charged as a murderer.

"House, they convicted him," Cameron whispered. "They put Tritter in jail. It was close, but once I testified, they convicted him. He's going to do 8-10 years in prison. Charged as a murderer. I'm sure that he put men away in prison, so it won't be a happy trip for him."

The trial had been just yesterday. It lasted a week. It was short and it was a bit ridiculous, but it didn't matter for Cameron. Someone had to be blamed. It sure wasn't her, House, Foreman, or Chase. So it had to be Tritter, Wilson, and Cuddy. It was their fault.

It was their fault. She lost her love once more. She lost House, who many times she believed she loved even more than her late husband.

At least now someone was paying for it. It didn't matter though. She was alone once more. Chase was getting married. Eric was probably going to marry the nurse that he was currently dating.

Not her though. She was alone, with a shattered heart. She and House had finally managed to admit their feelings and their lust. They had come cleaned about how much they needed the significant other, and they had begun to build their happily ever after.

The past was in the past. It didn't matter anymore. Cameron's heart was heavy with grief and she knew only one way how to relieve it. She stood up and kissed his tombstone, knowing that it felt nothing like the way he kissed her.

It had only been a week since his death, but already it felt like a life time. It had only been seven days since he last held her naked body against his own. It had only been 168 hours since she gazed into his deep, blue eyes. It had only been God only knows how many minutes since he told her he loved her.

The last day they had shared together, he loved her as much as he could. She didn't go to work that day because the entire day was spent in bed. Now it had made sense. He was in chronic pain, everything hurt, yet he still loved her that day. He still did everything he could to show her how much he loved and trusted and needed her.

"It's a bittersweet ending, isn't it Greg?" she whispered to him. She walked away from him, but not from his love. She walked back to his empty apartment, though it only seemed like Hell for her. To see all of his stuff.

She opened the door to his apartment, 15 minutes later. She looked at his living room and then at the piano in the corner of the room. She dropped everything, shutting and locking the door, and walked to the piano.

Her fingers once more traced the piano. How many countless hours had he spent on the piano, playing sweet music to her? She couldn't remember. She didn't want to remember. She tore herself away from the piano, grabbed her bag, and went down the hall.

All she could smell was him. That musky, wild sent that made her go mad. All she could see is him. Those blue eyes, the cocky smile.

She entered his room, and if she hadn't been crying, she sure would have broken down in tears. The sheets from his sheets, blankets, and, pillows were gone, taken by the police as evidence. They had just barely returned the mattress yesterday after the trial.

She went to his closet and got some spare pillows, blankets, and sheets. Slowly and swiftly, she dressed his bed. After she was done, she looked at his bed. She collapsed on top of it.

She stared at his ceiling, and immediately, a thousand scenes attacked her mind at once. Her mind seemed to replay every single memory that had something to do with House. His smell, his touch, everything about him attacked her senses until she couldn't take it anymore.

She wiped her face, though it was useless because less than a second later, tears wet her skin once more. She grabbed her bag and searched inside for a certain plastic, transparent, orange bottle and her water bottle. She found it and laid back down on the bed.

Cameron let out a shaky breath and opened both bottles. She placed a hand to her stomach.

"We can all be reunited this way." She whispered.

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Three days later, the police found Allison Cameron's body, next to an empty bottle of Viccodin pills and a water bottle. Her body was found in the exact same position and exact same spot as her late beau, Gregory House.

Later reports showed that she was 9 weeks pregnant.


End file.
